


A Cave of Flowers

by Sookiestark



Series: Ghost Stories of Westeros [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon, Storm's End (ASoIaF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:34:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Garlan Tyrell goes to bury his brother at Storm's End and hears about a ghostly King that wanders the cliffs.





	A Cave of Flowers

308 AC.

Garlan the Gallant, Lord of Highgarden, did not believe in ghost stories. He also did not believe in true love. However, ten years ago, he also would have told you dragons were things of legends and White Walkers were children’s stories. So, Lord Garlan Tyrell could not really tell you what was true or what he believed. When Lady Shireen Baratheon of Storm’s End wrote him a letter about a month after his trip to Storm’s End, he built a roaring fire in his study, poured himself some spiced Fossoway hard cider and took a book from the shelf he hadn’t read since he was young and thought back to over a month ago. 

He had not been planning a trip to Storm’s End, and so when he found himself there, he wanted to do what he needed and get back to Highgarden. As a second son, Garlan had been sandwiched between the intellect of Willas and the brilliance of Loras and he found that unlike some in his family, he did not have the heart of an attention seeker. He knew he was as smart as his elder brother and that he had a discerning eye of his grandmother, which gentle Willas did not. Garlan had practiced when he was young with the sword and horse and knew that he could best his younger brother Loras more than half the time, but he did not like tourneys, and so he was not nearly as famed. 

Luckily for him, he did not feel like he had to prove his worth or had ever felt inferior to either his elder brother or his younger. Willas would rule the Reach and Loras would go down in the stories as one of the greatest and truest knights of the Kingsguard. Garlan knew he was a good military commander. He had repelled the Greyjoys, helped defeat Cersei, and led the vanguard along with Jon Snow in the Second Battle for the Dawn. Equally important, Garlan loved his family and was loyal, steadfast, and true.

He had tried to rescue Margery but he had received word that he was too late, when he had turned to King’s Landing. He would have ridden through the Seven Hells to save her, but instead they received a marble box with her lovely body inside. Willas had died shortly after Queen Daenerys coronation, five years ago. There had been a sickness similar to the bloody flux that had ravaged the Seven Kingdoms. He had sat by his brother, until he passed from the world. He cared for his wife, Leonette, as best as he could and adored their two children, Leona and Gawain. 

Garlan Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden was marching through the woods near Storm’s End. It was a thick and pleasant forest, full of pine and oak, and small rivers bubbling over rounded and mossy stones. Full of quail, deer, and other creatures, it was peaceful and a slightly magical place. 

He rubbed his forehead and wondered if he was getting a headache. When he had sent the message to the Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End, he was sure he would be refused and that he will call him crazy. Instead, he had received a well written and kind letter that if his brother’s dying wish had been to be buried in the stormwood, that House Baratheon would be grateful to have the Knight of Flowers buried there.

He had met Lord Edric Baratheon, when he had been legitimized and given Storm’s End as part of his service to the Queen. Edric, who had been born Edric Storm, had struck him as an interesting character, probably resulting from his questionable birth, but that he seemed a level headed man with a romantic heart. His wife, Lady Shireen Baratheon was maybe not a strikingly beautiful woman, but she had a warm smile and a gentle manner. She seemed to love her husband and children a great deal and did not seem to think that Loras’s dying request was strange at all. 

At dinner the night before, Lady Shireen had spoken, “Ser Loras was fostered here at Storm's End and knighted as well. He and Lord Renly held each other in high regard. I do not know if you know this Lord Tyrell but your brother would come to visit about once a year to fish and hunt in the stormwoods for about a week. He would spar with the boys and come in for supper. But he would stay out there in the wood most of the week. “

Edric had proceeded to tell him stories of Renly and Loras teaching him how to spar in the yard and hunt in the stormwoods. It was then the subject turned to ghost stories. “They say our Uncle Renly walks those woods still. There is a place where the First Men had a circle of stones to call up their dark magic and there have been those who have seen him out there. A ghostly King with rainment of silver mists and a crown of roses and a stag on a horse, prowling the cliffs and woods.”

Garlan had laughed and Edric had followed suit. Lady Shireen had spoken, “My Lord, do you not believe in spirits? It is said that some souls have unrest and must walk the earth until their souls are put to rest. Some for grief. Some for blood. Some seek their true love and will not rest until they are joined in death.”

Garlan had looked at Shireen and saw only intelligence from her blue eyes. He knew she knew the truth of Renly and Loras, and though she had been raised by religious zealots, she seemed to hold no ill-will for any love her Uncle might have had that could not be spoken about in polite company. He recognized her for someone like himself, who was honorable, true and could see beyond the surface of things, into a person’s heart. He smiled at her, “My lady, do you think Renly searches for blood or grief or love?”

She smiled and took her husband’s hand and squeezed it, “Uncle Robert and my father would come back for blood, but Uncle Renly is here for love.”

They had laughed and the conversation had moved to lighter things. 

 

Loras had died less than a month ago. There had been a tourney to celebrate the Queen’s fifth year of her reign and it had been the largest tourney of its kind, since the one at Lannisport. All the Houses, Great and lesser, had made sure to make a show of sending an envoy to compete, as well as all the landed knights and hedge knights. Finally, it seemed that the world was coming back to how it should be, how it had been before all the wars, famine and death, that things were repairing themselves.

Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Commander of the Queensguard, had rode well in the lists. Garlan had been unhorsed by the new Sword of Morning, Ser Edric Dayne, Lord of Starfall in the third round. By that time, people were saying that Lord Dayne was his Uncle Arthur reborn.

Loras had always been better at jousting. But in the final tilt, it had left Dayne and Loras. They broke twenty three lances against each other. Whispers in the crowd had started that they might be break the title of best joust of all time, held by Ser Redwyne and Ser Crabbe, two hundred and ten years before them. About this time, the twenty fourth lance splintered and the Knight of Flowers fell.

Garlan had realized something was wrong almost immediately. By the time, Loras had fallen from the horse and the blood started to stain the ground, Garlan was almost across the field. He had gotten to where Loras lay, his squire some Rowan or Beesbury boy, pale and getting sick in the grass. Garlan had seen the damage that could be done to a body many times, but this particular injury was unsettling and he felt his bile rise in his throat. His brother had a large piece of splintered wood from the Lord of Starfall’s lance that had gotten through the visor and lodged itself in his eye. Blood was pouring from the wound, but more concerning was how deep it was lodged. 

Garlan took his brothers gloved hand, “Loras.. Loras.. Can you hear me.”

“Garlan, you must help me get this helmet and visor off. I can barely breathe,” his brother’s voice was pained.

Someone had been looking to see if there was anyway that it could be removed but Garlan knew the answer. The helmet would stay on until his brother died which wouldn’t take long. Garlan spoke “We are going to get it off soon, Loras. Really soon. Just keep breathing.”

At that moment, Lord Edric Dayne was on the grass beside Loras. He had lost the color in his cheeks and his hands were shaking. “We must get the Lord Commander's armor off. Where are the Maesters? We need a stretcher. My tent is nearby. He can get out of the sun.” 

Loras had looked at the boy and groaned, as he moved his head to try and see him as the boy clutched his hand.

“Ser, I am dying. I need no maester. Call the Silent Sisters. “

The Lord of Starfall clutched the Knight of Flowers left hand, while Garlan clutched his brother’s right. 

Loras had taken a deep breath and spoken clearly looking at Garlan, knowing Garlan would help him,“I need you to take my body to Storm’s End and bury me with him. Garlan, please. By the cave of flowers, overlooking the sea, there is a giant tree near a circle of stones. Bury me there, where no one will disturb us.” 

He gurgled and moaned and said a few more words that no one could understand. Then, his last, living sibling had died on that field on a sunny, late summer day. Garlan had watched them come and take his brother’s body off the field. He had walked with Lord Edric Dayne and knew that he was speaking to him, apologizing sincerely, but Garlan could not understand a single word that was coming out of Lord Dayne’s mouth. 

Inside his tent, he watched the Lord of Starfall’s hand shake, as he poured iced wine for himself and Garlan. Of course, the man’s hand would shake. He had just killed a legend, a knight that bards would sing of for the ages. But, Garlan remembered when Loras had put Renly's armor on him before the Battle of the Blackwater. He remembered how his hands had shaken and his brother had this broken look, much like this handsome man before him. 

He thought to himself how history would sometimes repeat itself. He hoped better for the boy than his brother had. He had heard Edric Dayne was to marry by the end of the year and hoped for the new Lady of Starfall that Garlan had mistook the gesture. Perhaps, he was like Oberyn Martell and loved men and women, or perhaps, Garlan was lost in his own grief and seeing his brother in every handsome and talented knight.

Now, Lord Tyrell tromps through the stormwoods and looks for a circle of stones laid by the First Men to worship their Old Gods. He has half a dozen Highgarden men with shovels and one holds a dark oak box carved with roses. Inside, it is lined with green velvet and it holds his brothers bones. 

Lady Shireen had pointed him and his men in the right direction. When her husband said he would go with Lord Tyrell to show him, she had gently reminded him that he might want to be alone with his grief. It had started to rain gently and the leaves started to get slick with water. When they crested the hill, crossing a small stream, he and his men came upon a small clearing on top off the cliffs that overlooked the sea. In the distance, they could see Storm’s End, battered by the sea and the winds off the coast. He wondered if Margery would have been happy here with Renly but he knew the answer. Renly had been a step-stone to the throne for her and he had seen her in the same light. They had both wanted the Iron Throne. Nothing would have been enough for either of them, except that ugly throne. 

It was nested between two jutting cliffs and natural rock formations. In the middle of the clearing was a circle of rocks that his brother had told him about and a huge oak with mistletoe growing up the base and nestled through the leaves. The ancient tree had changed its colors from a verdant green to red and brown with autumn upon them. It looked like it was on fire. 

Garlan smiled. This was the spot, he was sure. He ordered the men to dig a hole not too deep. He did not want to disturb Renly but he did not want wild animals to disturb his remains of his younger brother. 

He wandered to the edge of the cliff to look at the sea churning the waters below. Something caught the corner of his eyes. On the edge of cliff wall, to the right him, there was a wall of climbing rose bushes, red, blue, and gold. Because autumn had recently fallen, the blue winter roses were blooming among the dying red and gold ones. The frost from the last few nights had made short work of the roses, and only a few hardy gold ones clung to the weak autumn light, 

Garlan reached out to touch one of the blue winter roses. He did not want to disrupt the two golden flowers left, so he went to pick one of the blue to bring back to his wife. He had smiled wondering, if Loras had planted these vines, or had Renly in an act of love, planted Loras’ sigil in this spot, their spot.

As he cut the rose from the vine with his knife, he saw the break in the stone beneath, and that an opening of a cave was beneath all those roses. He called for a torch and the Heir to Highgarden decided to see what Loras had hidden behind the roses. This must have been what he had meant by the Cave of Flowers. 

The first few steps into the cave were tight and Garlan thought that he might find nothing, or worse he might find a den of wolves. However, he quieted his anxiety by thinking to himself that a pack of animals would have disturbed the flowers, and he pushed deeper in the cave. 

Quickly, he came to the back of the cave that was fashioned to be a small room or dwelling of a kind. It was dry, not too high, probably the perfect height for Renly who stood as tall as he did. There was a small table with two chairs. Some candles and a jar that had held flowers. He stopped at the jar and picked up the petals. This summer when his brother had come, he must have placed the flowers here. There was a straw mattress that his brother must have slept on. It was small and old. It made Garlan sad to think his brother had slept here. 

The most interesting thing about the cave was the ceiling and walls were covered in paint and charcoal drawings of roses in all colors. Like the sky had opened and instead of rain, roses had fell. The paint was old and faded, but Garlan knew immediately that it was his brother’s handiwork. When Loras had been young, maybe thirteen or fourteen, all he did, beside fight and ride, was draw and paint these damn roses everywhere. He had painted a mural of them on a garden wall at Highgarden, and when he had gone back to Storm’s End, his grandmother had painted over it, saying it was vulgar. 

Absently, he had touched them trying to imagine a young Loras, unsure and deeply in love trying to impress Renly Baratheon. It made him smile to see such a romantic gesture and that he would leave it such, even after all the years. He wondered what had transpired here and felt a growing feeling like he was in the Sept of Oldtown or the Godswood at Highgarden. This was a sacred place full of history and he would never know even the smallest piece of it. Still, he was reverent. 

He remembered how his brothers hand shook as he helped him put on the armor before the Battle at Blackwater. He hears the men outside, digging Loras’ grave. He listens to the sea and the surf and thinks of a much younger Loras, his brother, happy and madly in love. He thinks about Renly and Loras squeezing on that tiny pitiful mattress, exchanging hopes and dreams in a dark cave. It was the only place that they could be together. Their cave of flowers. 

Within the hour, he heard the men finish burying his brother’s bones. 

 

He takes the golden rose pin off his cloak and leaves it on the table. “Goodbye Loras.”

He knows it is wrong, but as he walks back to Highgarden, he is jealous of Loras. Loras knew true love, real love. He had never been jealous of Loras for anything, except now and for this. By the time, he had reached Storm’s End, Garlan was no longer jealous, but maybe a bit sad and determined to find a love that he would want to climb in a cave of flowers and candles on an old straw mattress, perfectly at peace and madly in love. Hopefully with his wife.

The letter Lady Shireen Baratheon had written spoke of witnesses have started seeing, not just a ghostly king, but a ghostly knight that walks besides him, along the cliff at dusk and dawn. By all accounts, they are happy and enjoying the woods in each others company....

**Author's Note:**

> So this is mostly book
> 
> I really like Garlan Tyrell and I hope he survives. He is a great character. I had soo many versions of this story. Mostly fluffy love things were Renly and Loras are reunited in death but I opted for a story more about Garlan with the ghosts being on the periphery. 
> 
> Also I want Shireen to survive so there is that too-- Lady of Storm's End
> 
> I may come back to this and do some edits because its a good story if I had more time.


End file.
